


Falling

by Nopholom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Demons, Fallen Angels, M/M, Prompt Fic, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Dean is an angel of the lord who rebelled against Heaven to help Castiel, a hunter. The only problem is, Dean lost his grace when he fell from above and now Cas has to help him get it back and continue hunting demons at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> For Roadhouseshipper who doesn't appear to be on here.
> 
> With the 4k word cap there really isn't much room to branch out as much as I'd like :C

After Anna, Castiel always thought that angels fell and were reborn on earth, so he definitely hadn’t expected Dean’s screams to be echoing in his head when he woke up.

 

He’d been dreaming, he must have been, he had been sitting on a bench watching a man fly a kite when out of nowhere, Dean tore through, bloody and afraid, shouting his name, shouting something else, he wasn’t sure what else he’d been shouting but Dean had fallen to the ground with a gut wrenching cry, waking Castiel with a start.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, he needed to get up and find Dean, see where the angel had gotten too, make sure he was okay and alive, so he called him, clasping his hands together and pulling the same face he always did when he had to pray, exasperated because Dean only ever responded when recited 80s rock to him. He uttered Dean’s true name and chanted what little ACDC he knew but no shiver of wind passed through the room, no angel appeared and finished the song for him, he remained alone in his motel room. Something was wrong.

He was off the bed and pulling on his suit and coat, slipping his shoes on and grabbing his things, darting from the room to his car, the car Dean had ‘acquired’ when Castiel’s had been destroyed by demons. He tossed his bag into the sleek black vehicle and climbed in, pulling from the motel parking lot and driving, he didn’t know what he was looking for, which direction he was supposed to be going in, but this one seemed like a good idea, something was pulling him, his eyes scanning the neon signs scattered around, trying to find something that stood out to him.

He had his phone out too, was dialling Dean’s number hoping the angel would answer but no such luck, he was getting worried now, hitting the steering wheel just before he saw it, an old warehouse with faded paint, Sunrise spelled white across a picture of a sunrise. The name rankled familiarity, he’d heard it before, in his dream, a last failing attempt at a scream; he turned off of the road and parked as quickly as possible, stumbling from the car with an angel blade in one hand and his carved knife in the other. He kicked the doors in, the first thing he noticed was debris everywhere, the roof was caved in, moonlight pooling in, highlighting a slumped form amidst the rubble.

“Dean!” he called out, scrambling over broken wood and slate, blades stashed as he fell to his knees by the angel, there was no spread of wings burned into the ground, which was a relief, but Dean was bloody, a complete mess as he lay crumpled on the floor. “Dean what happened?” he asked, touching the angel’s shoulder and feeling him flinch away,

“It’s gone…” Dean mumbled, barely audible,

“What is?” he asked,

“ _everything_ …” he whispered, Castiel saw his eyes then, wide and haunted, searching but not really seeing as he lay there, “everything…” he repeated, voice cracking slightly. Castiel eased him into a sitting position, the angel slumping against him, curling his arms around himself and sitting there, still and silent.

“I don’t understand…” Castiel murmured, touching a hand to Dean’s head to comfort, then deciding against it, lowering his hand to his shoulder instead, he looked around then, trying to work out what Dean meant by ‘everything’, but he couldn’t work it out, all he knew was Dean was injured and it didn’t seem to be healing. An angel did this maybe? But no, he’d seen an angel being stabbed, their grace shone from their wounds, so why wasn’t Dean’s vessel healing? “Dean, you need to tell me what happened,” he urged, moving the angel so he was forced to look up at him. Dean’s eyes seemed dimmer than usual, the shimmer of green now dull and muddy, tired and barely focussed, “ _Dean_ ,” he repeated,

“I fell…” he uttered, turning those scarily dim eyes upward, to the gaping hole in the ceiling,

“From what? A fucking jet?” Castiel asked, looking up with him, eyes widening when Dean muttered a single word, his blood running cold as his mind repeated it, ‘ _heaven_ ’. Dean had _fallen from heaven_. “Oh… oh my god…” he felt winded, this couldn’t be happening, not after everything they’d been through, but then it happened _because_ of everything they had been through, Dean had _fallen_ because he had _helped_ Castiel, had dragged his stupid ass out of that green room after helping him kill his brother Samael. “I’m… Dean I’m sorry…” he whispered,

“Bit late for that…” Dean mumbled, leaning heavily on him, his head dropping slightly, breathing evening out, it didn’t take long for Castiel to realise the angel… _fallen_ angel… had fallen asleep against him. With only a hint of difficulty, he managed to heft the angel out to the car and lie him in the back seat, driving to the next town and getting them another motel room, intending to let the man sleep in an actual bed whilst he tried to track down the man’s grace.

It was weird thinking of Dean as just a man, because that was all he was now, a man, a human who needed sleep, food, drink, all the basics, not an angel who simply existed and fought.

He shook the thought from his head and set up his laptop, it took longer to connect than usual, but he paid it no mind, trying to work out when exactly Dean had fallen, to see if any phenomena had occurred at the same time, like a meteor shower or something similar. He was still looking a few days later, when Dean finally began to stir mid-afternoon, grumbling incoherently and struggling to work his way out of the mass of blankets Castiel had piled onto his chilly form.

“Muh…” he let out as his head broke free, Castiel looking over to see hair sticking up and a dopey, bleary looking Dean poking out from the covers, “My stomach feels weird…” he grumbled, “Thin I’m hungry…” he yawned, pushing the blankets off before regretting it, pulling them tight around his body.

“That a new feeling?” Castiel asked, Dean nodding grumpily, “I’ll go get some food,” Dean seemed intrigued by this prospect, perking up as much as he could when still exhausted, “I’ve looked for your grace but can’t find anything,” he admitted, Dean looked disheartened but the expression was soon disturbed by another long yawn, Castiel couldn’t help but smile at him.

He figured he’d get something pretty simple to eat, you couldn’t go wrong with burgers, unless Dean was somehow a vegetarian or something, he shook off that thought and grabbed his jacket, “I’ll be half an hour, salt the door when I’m out,” he instructed, laughing when Dean reluctantly eased himself off of the bed, taking one of the blankets with him and wrapping it around himself in a way it could hold itself up without his help. He left then for their food run, hoping the angel would be okay, it was hard to stay focussed when you were tired, and given the fact that Dean was running on his vessel’s energy now, it had been well over a year since the man’s body had slept properly.

He fretted the whole time he was away, but was focussed enough to grab a newspaper and some snacks that would last longer than burgers, just in case, before heading to the nearest fast food place. Going on the same logic about Dean’s eating as he had Dean’s sleeping, Castiel got more than enough food for the two of them, hauling it back and calling out to Dean as he unlocked the door.

Dean was a significant lump in the bed again, but he was watching Castiel as he walked in, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed noticeably at the air, he eased himself from the bedding but didn’t get far before Castiel handed him a bag and a drink. The angel placed the drink on the side and dug into the bag, it wasn’t long before he was stuffing his face, eyes alight with fascination as he absorbed the flavours; it wasn’t a pretty sight, but Castiel watched anyway, the starving man quaffing his food was a little endearing, made him seem more basic somehow. “You need to slow down,” he urged, Dean choking slightly but getting past the lump in his throat and continuing on at the same pace, washing it down with his soda, watching Castiel pick at his fries when he was done, obviously interested in the food the hunter had left over.

Castiel offered his food over and watched the Angel creep across the bed in a crouch, balancing on his toes and knuckles as he reached out to the cardboard box of fries, snatching it away and sitting down again, polishing it off whilst Castiel moved to the laptop with his newspaper, trying to find some mention of a light falling from the sky, though he doubted he’d find anything, not if he hadn’t in the past few days.

He did manage to find a case though, one Dean had moved closer to look at over his shoulder, looming behind him, still and quiet, clad in only boxers and a t-shirt; Castiel wondered if the angel had even noticed his clothes were gone, but there was no way he could let him sleep in bloody torn clothes, and he’d acquired new ones for him, so it wasn’t like the angel was stuck in his skivvies.

“Demons,” Dean rumbled, expression dark, he startled Castiel, who had been staring at him, lost in his own thoughts,

“huh?”

“It’s demons… we need to find them,” he said slowly, and that seemed like a pretty good idea, but how was Castiel supposed to go hunting with a _fallen angel_?

The answer was actually more difficult than Castiel had expected, because Dean apparently hadn’t noticed his state of dress, meaning the hunter had had to grab the angel before he strode from the motel room in his underwear. They packed up shortly after, a relief on Castiel’s part because staying in one place for so long made him antsy, and with Dean suited up for some information gathering, they drove to the police station, only to see a horde of cop cars tearing the other way. A quick decision had them in tow, Castiel flashing his ID at the scene, it was definitely the same as the one’s he’d read up on, which was sort of perfect in a sick, slightly saddening way. Dean was halted as he fumbled with his badge, handing it over uncomfortably and cowing under the look the chief investigator gave him, Castiel frowned but said nothing, just proceeding to look at the scene.

He had expected Dean to be impassive around the blood soaked scene, where a ritual had clearly taken place, the blood and innards smeared into symbols and the likes, but he stood off to the side, lurching every now and then, as if ready to hurl, Castiel didn’t know if it was because he’d eaten recently or if his vessel had something of a sensitive stomach, but it would have been amusing if he wasn’t stepping over the entrails of what was once a nine year old girl. Castiel found residual sulphur by the broken window of the house they were in, confirming their earlier suspicions of demonic activity, though Dean didn’t seem all that impressed when he told him.

“I already said that, we’re wasting time here,” he huffed impatiently,

“I had to make sure Dean, you know that,” Dean ignored him though, looking around and scrutinising the other people in the room, seeming completely on edge where they were, “Since you’re so smart and all, you going to tell us where they are too?” he asked, watching as Dean frowned at him,

“Why would I know that?” he asked, shaking his head at Castiel before waiting for the other to take his leave.

Dean was curt and ill at ease even as they sought out the only suspect the case had, his irritability only furthered by the amount of time he had to spend in the car, and how tired he started getting after a short while. It made Castiel worry, especially when they tracked down the killer’s haunt, because Dean was nodding off in the passenger seat and he wasn’t sure about taking him into the dilapidated old house. “Dean, we’re here,” Dean sat up jerkily then, reaching into the back and grabbing his angel blade, the gesture of retrieving his weapon was awkward looking and Castiel felt bad for the guy, it couldn’t have been easy.

“Let’s gank this bitch,” Dean growled, and it sounded odd, lacked conviction, they were out of the car and sneaking towards the house, breaking in as quietly as possible and shifting silently through the house.

There was a body on the floor in the main room, ahead of it was the demon, swirling his fingers in an ancient goblet full of the victim’s blood, talking and smirking as he got a response. Dean held out a hand, stopping Castiel’s advance and sneaking over himself, stepping over the body, which let out a gasping wheeze, burbling blood, just about alive as the woman on the floor seemed to ask for help, only managing to alert the demon to their presence.

Castiel ran like a shot, slamming into the demon and pressing the blade to his throat, the goblet clattered on the ground and, to Castiel’s shock, Dean cried out ‘no’ behind him.

“What?” he asked, and that was enough wiggle room for the demon, who flung him across the room like a rag doll, Dean was still active though, charging the demon and carving quickly and efficiently, digging a harsh symbol into the man’s chest which made him lock up and stagger backwards, weak enough for Castiel to right himself. “What the hell Dean?!” he demanded, rushing over with his knife, but the look on Dean’s face made him stop, the angel crouching by the demon as he forced him to the floor,

“What are the demons talking about?” he snarled, pressing the blade to the demon’s throat, Castiel was stunned, why the hell was Dean asking that? They were supposed to be stopping a demon that used young kids for rituals, not asking him twenty questions; the demon just spat at Dean and smirked, blood creeping down his chin, a reaction to the sigil on his chest. “Tell me, _now_ ,” Dean hissed, pressing the blade closer, enough to nick the skin and make it flash and burble underneath, the demon crying out,

“Fuck off, feathers,” the demon spat, “oh wait,” he said after, letting out a cackle when Dean slammed his head into the wall, “what? Little birdy get his wings clipped?” the demon asked, teeth now red with blood, “Daddy cut you off?” Dean slammed his head against the wall again, Castiel grabbing him to stop him,

“Dean! He’s wearing a human, you can’t just _do_ that!” he snapped, trying to get Dean away from the demon, but even as a human the man was _damned_ strong.

“Get the hell off!” Dean snapped, elbowing Castiel square in the face and knocking him back onto his ass, the angel barely paying attention as he began to threaten the demon again, blade in his hand, pressed against the flesh of the demon’s cheek, “How about I carve you up and we’ll see which way you spill your guts first,” he growled, Castiel sat on the floor behind him, gawking and trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose.

“Bring it,” the demon smirked wickedly, and Castiel should have known then that something was off, should have warned Dean but he was too in shock at the man’s behaviour to really speak.

He’d managed to find his feet, trying once more to coax Dean away from the demon, but Dean was unrelenting, torturing the bastard, drawing out a mixture of glee and pain from the hellspawn and nothing that he wanted to hear.

There was a crash behind Castiel and he turned quickly, seeing a trio of black eyed people grinning from the doorway, a man and two women, “Shit…” he let out, “Dean!” he called after, the angel snarling and running his torture victim through, turning and facing the other demons, he was bloody and grim looking, but also tired and wavering on his feet.

Castiel didn’t know how long Dean would hold up, and one of the demons, the male, had begun approaching him, lead pipe in hand, which left the two women to lunge at Dean. He didn’t see how the angel fought, too preoccupied with the demon ahead of him, struggling to get a good stab in as he was knocked about, blood still dripping steadily from his nose.

He ducked under the demon’s arm as he swung, ramming the blade between two ribs and watching the demon spark out and crumple to the ground, grinning and ready to help Dean when he saw the angel go down with a cry, his own blade cutting a slice up his back, handled by the last remaining demon.

“Yanno, I thought angels would be harder to kill than this,” she smirked, twirling the blade in her hand before raising it, ready to stab the angel knelt on the floor, Dean had arched away from the blade, his back a curve and his head tilted upwards, the demon just about visible to him. He was in immense pain, crumpling to the ground as Castiel began chanting an exorcism, he could at least _try_ to save one of these people; the demon turned and snarled at him, black smoke sputtering from her mouth as she tried to move to lash out at him, to get him to stop, but Castiel was fast and able to concentrate on both dodging her and exorcising her.

She screamed as her demonic essence tore from the human she’d possessed, the blade in her hand clattering to the ground before her body followed suit, Castiel looking around quickly before rushing to Dean’s side. The angel was on his side, back bleeding from a long gash, the edges of which were almost charred looking, he pressed his hands to the wound, Dean flinching away and letting out a pained moan,

“Dean…” he said softly, starting to worry his lip with his teeth. He had to get Dean out of here, but moving him would only hurt him, “Hang on,” he instructed, but it wasn’t as if Dean was going anywhere, lying painfully still on the old floorboards, letting out soft, painful sounds.

Castiel ran from the house, grabbing his bag from the car and turning back inside, doing his best to clean and cover the wound in gauze and tape, it wasn’t much, but it just had to keep it from getting infected before he got the angel back to their motel room. He made Dean hold the blade and hefted him up, grateful it was growing dark when he emerged from the house, more so when he realised the street was completely empty. For the second time in a week, Dean was left in the back seat of the car, suffering this time, not as close to sleep this time around though.

They were back at the motel, Castiel suturing Dean’s wound, when Dean said it, “I’m human,” he uttered, “I am nothing but human,” he added again,

“It’s not so bad…” Castiel answered, “humans can be a lot of things,” he tried to reassure, but Dean was sullen, wincing and hissing his pain as Castiel drew the flesh to a pinch, hoping it was enough. “Besides, it’s not for long, we’ll find your grace in no time,” he added, breaking the thread of floss he’d used and tying it off, dropping the bent needle into a small pot to sterilise it, a long silence stretched between them, Castiel’s hands lingering on the angel’s back, assuring that the suture was strong enough, or at least that’s what he seemed to be doing, what he was actually doing was closer to drawing patterns on the warm flesh.

“I don’t think we will…” Dean finally said, Castiel’s heart sank at the hopelessness in Dean’s voice, “ _They_ probably have it,” he looked up then, and Castiel knew he meant the angels, his brothers and sisters, were hording his grace away from him.

 _“Dean_ …” he sighed, touching his hands to Dean’s bare shoulders, letting them slide down his arm slightly, shifting closer behind him, “I’m so sorry,” he apologised, he knew it was his fault, it killed him to know he had done this, broken an angel, torn him from grace, he felt _ashamed_.

He felt warm fingers ghost over his own, shocked and watching, Dean’s hand moved to cover his, squeezing it lightly, “Don’t be…” he uttered, “I know where my loyalties lie,” Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s over his shoulder, the dull brownish green glinting slightly, as if a small spark of life had just arisen within the fallen angel, and somewhere within those eyes, Castiel was surprised to find a touch of gratitude.


End file.
